


Betrothal

by BigG



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bran is 11 years old, Bran is confused about his sexuality, F/M, Gay Male Character, Gay marriage in the middle ages, Homophobia, Joffrey and Sansa are the age they are in the show, M/M, Mpreg, Ned is resentful, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Sibling Bonding, characters are aged up, jealous Sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:31:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigG/pseuds/BigG
Summary: It's the Kings feast at Winterfell and a childhood love of Sansa's doesn't want to let go as quickly as she does. Things go horribly wrong and now Joffrey must find himself a new match before his Mother or Father finds out. He decides to break with traditional marriage... for lack of a better sentence.





	1. You Misunderstand

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the first chapter, the chapter that sets the scene for the next. Things start to fall into place in the second and the tags will begin to make sense soon ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa makes a mistake.

Sansa and Jeyne giggled and chattered through hands clasped over the shell of ears as they were deafened by the singing and cheering of the feast. They had both been permitted a cup of fine summerwine by Sansa’s Lord Father and no more. Yet the Stark girl found that one at her age of 14 Namedays it was having a stern influence. She was gleeful, chatty and acted before thinking. Both she and Jeyne Poole giggled over Sansa’s future husband and future King. When the Stark girl paused and glanced up to the high table, Joffrey Baratheon was smirking down at her as he took a sip of his own goblet. The candlelight caught on his crown of golden hair and glowed in the dimness, bringing out the shimmer in his emerald eyes. Sansa could not believe she was as fortunate to be betrothed to such a kind, handsome and gentle soul. She quickly averted her eyes. Both Jeyne and herself bursting out with laughter at the seams. Sansa could feel a tint of flush crawling up her cheekbones. Septa Mordane would most likely disapprove of such behavior in front of her future husband but Sansa could not bring herself to care for once, the wine had clearly gotten to her.

She reached for her goblet on the table to find two thirds empty to be precise. She had to be careful how much more she drank and how fast she drank. She could not help, taking rather large swings, more so than she had intended, a small ribbon escaping the corner of her lips to dribble down her chin. Sansa swiped it away with the print of her thumb and suckled on the bittersweet fruity juice on her flesh. The Stark girl glanced about the Great Hall of Winterfell. The tunes of the singer and instruments muddled with the laughter and cheering into white noise. The usually grey stone was adorned with the tapestries of the Direwolf of Stark, Lion of Lannister and the Stag of Baratheon: white, gold and scarlet. On the benches of the younger squires she spotted her bastard half-brother Jon Snow, seated at the very back, where he should be. He’s lucky to even be here she thought, not wanting Jeyne to hear.

The cub of Stark then noticed the servants carrying the dishes of their main course. Large platters of roast meat and fresh-baked bread. A Light and warm bread, Sansa could tell her favorite type of bread. Among the servants she caught sight of Rendal Tyde, a servant boy of sixteen Namedays, a handsome one too. Ebony locks in short strands, smooth skin of a creamy completion and the sparse beginnings of whiskers under his nose, ones one had to strain their eyes to see. The boys own eyes were a soft green, not unlike that of her Joffrey’s emeralds, but rather the green of the fabled Jade Sea she had heard of in her lessons that held so many wonders of the far east.

Sansa quickly averted her own vivid blue eyes as a nerve twisted in her abdomen. This was not some ordinary servant boy but rather a friend of the Stark girl, a friend that she had kept under her parent’s nose for years and shared her first kiss with. It had developed into a mutual affection for one another as both noble Lady and servant boy explored with each other the strange emotions brought on from entering adolescence. It had developed from a first kiss to innocent and childish trysts in dark corners in the corridors of Winterfell and late night cuddling as the bitter winds of the North whistled outside the windows.  


Sansa had then grown distant in recent years, pushing further and further away from Rendal, seeking to become the pure and wholehearted Lady she was always meant to be, it being best to leave such childish pursuits of experimented love in her childhood. Rendal however, refused to let it die. His feelings still apparent, he wanted to continue and Sansa had said no, however he had persisted. Now the relationship lay in awkward limbo, neither knowing where the other stood.

Sansa glanced up at her betrothed, “Thank the Gods” she said in a whisper as he was looking away in conversation with his Mother, the Queen, the status Sansa would inherit when the time came. She took a deep breath to will the effects of the drink away. She could not understand why she was letting herself get all flustered from a childhood romance. It was then that Rendal Tyde stood before her setting a large silver platter of freshly roasted meat beside her. All he gave Sansa was a glance of the eyes that still very much resembled the Jade Sea. He utilised the oversized knife and fork brought with the food to place on her plate the portion her Lord Father had deemed appropriate for his children. Then he used his nimble fingers to place the freshly baked bread on the side of her plate.

As Rendal lifted the platter to move to Jeyne, he offered Sansa a warm smile. He repeated his actions, placing more or less the same amount of food on Jeyne’s plate, yet there was no smile, just a calm and collected servant of Winterfell. When he passed further down the table, the Stewards daughter turned to the Stark girl. “Are you alright?” she asked. Jeyne was fully aware Sansa had shared a few kisses with the servant, yet she was completely fine with it. Both Sansa and Jeyne had sat late at night, Jeyne would sneak in after the last servants had extinguished the hallway candles and would gossip and giggle with her friend until the sun stretched its first fingers over the trees and horizon. Some nights even with the company of Rendal. Jeyne would dare them to kiss and they would, only of Jeyne to smile and grow jealous.

“Yes. Yes... I’m fine.” Sansa replied after a drawn out exhale.

“It will be fine.” Jeyne said. “Do you really think he’s going to do anything? You’re getting married to Joffrey Baratheon.” All was said in a hush and after a moment Sansa found she could laugh it off and the childish giggles returned to them for no particular reason.

Their laughter was ended when a ball of crushed meat splattered on Sansa’s chest, staining her hand sown dress. Shock and utter fury took over as she realized who was the culprit. “Arya!” she screeched as her horsefaced little sister ducked smirking behind another shoulder, clutching her spoon. Sansa glanced up at her Mother in grief. Catelyn was biting her lip in embarrassment and checked to make sure the Queen pain no attention. To her relief the Queen’s attention was focused elsewhere. The Stark cub saw her Lady Mother motion to her eldest who swiftly moved to lift Arya from her seat.

“Time for Bed.” He stated as he carried his little sister to and through the great doors. The Stark girl’s attention then turned to the grease now being absorbed by her dress. Sansa promptly pulled the ball of meat from the fabric stretching over her thighs and dropped it on her own plate. Jeyne turned her attention to helping her best friend, utilizing a side piece of cloth to pat it dry. It cleaned up what was still damp but the stain itself remained. She sighed in frustration. Sansa was utterly humiliated to be seen like this in front of her future husband. “Come with me. We’ll get something to get this out.” The daughter of the Steward said as she lifted herself and Sansa from their seats. Sansa kept her head held high as she walked out of the hall. She had suffered enough embarrassment from her sister for one night.

Both Sansa and Jeyne strode down numerous corridors before reaching the kitchens. It was teeming with activity as cooks, kitchen maids and servants rushed to serve the appetite of the Kingsmen. Sansa had rarely seen as many people in one chamber. Jeyne promptly stopped a kitchen maid in the crowd who did not seem per-occupied. “Could we have a cup of water and a rag?” She asked and the girl swiftly replied, pouring a cup of water before returning to the two girls near the doorway with both a cup and a cloth. “Thank-you.” The Stewards daughter said.

Jeyne then proceeded to lead the Stark girl halfway between the kitchens and the Great Hall, down a side corridor and out of sight. She soaked the rag and continued to scrub the darkened spot on the breast of Sansa’s dress. It seemed to work a bit better but not by much. “It seems to be working but not as well as we hoped.” Jeyne muttered dumbly, Sansa huffed in sadness and frustration. The Stark girl reassured herself, Mother will punish her she thought as Arya came to her mind, Sansa would ensure that her horsefaced sister would get more than a simple chastisement...

“Sansa?” A familiar voice called from behind. She glanced behind to see a head and shoulders peeking around the... oh no.  


“Can I... can we talk for a minute.” Rendal Tyde stuttered as he tip toed forward into full view clutching an empty and greasy platter at his waist. His features were calm and impossible to read with the wine clouding her judgment. Sansa did not even realize he was approaching until he stood a foot away.

Finally finding words she stuttered “Rendal! Who... what are you doing here!”

“I know a-and I’m sorry. It’s just... I wanted to talk to you about... you know”--- he dragged out his sentence but was at a loss for words, as was his fancy. What in the name of all the Gods is he doing! She thought. If Joffrey or anyone for that matter was to catch them, the repercussions. She could not even imagine.

“It’s just with everything that’s been going on, with the Prince and all. I just wanted to”---

“Rendal I’ve already told you... we cannot continue. You cannot continue” Sansa spat, cutting Randal off. She kept her voice low yet it was no less forceful, her eyes flickered about before focusing on the Tyde boy and gripped the edge of her frock in irritation. “You know you cannot see me anymore.” Her vocals softened, “I am to be married to Prince Joffrey, and he is my true love.”

Sansa instantly regretted her choice of words now seeing the look of broken heart on her first kiss. Her own features softened and sadness with pity took over, the liquor was too impairing to her thoughts, she could not realize what she was doing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just as you said yourself with everything that has been going on. I am to be married to the Prince. I have to loyal and faithful to him. You know I... we cannot continue.” She let her voice grow softer with each word as if speaking to Joffrey in person.

“You should listen to her Rendal.” Added Jeyne, “if anyone were to find out about you two”---  


“I know and I understand” he protested, “it’s I’ve never been able to get over you. You of all people know that. I know you want to end this and I kind of agree with you. It’s just”---

“It’s just?” Sansa repeated regarding him curiously.

“It’s just... I don’t want you to run off and just leave it as it is, I would much rather we ended things properly rather than just letting it dissipate.” Rendal’s voice was full of sorrow yet he resolved to keep his composure. It was hard for him, both Sansa and Jeyne knew could tell, and they respected that he could retain a grip on himself given how deeply he felt for Sansa.  


“What do you mean by that?” Jeyne queried before the Stark girl had a chance, Sansa then shooting her a glance causing Jeyne to clear her throat in discomfort.

“I can speak for myself.” She spat. The daughter of the Steward shrunk back into her place.

“Sorry.” She replied meekly. This is Sansa’s affair, Jeyne realized, it is for her to deal with.

“What do you mean by that?” Sansa asked Rendal again.

Rendal paused. He clutched the platter nervously before he finally decided to give it a try. “Will you kiss me? One last time, for old times’ sake?”

Sansa stared at the servant and thought she heard wrong. The silence was deafening and awkward. “Sansa?” Rendal pressed.  


“Do you have any idea what you’re asking?” she finally said, “I would be ruined if anyone knew we had had this conversation.”  


“I know and that’s why I am asking you first. If you don’t want to then I will not push you. You know I would never force you into anything you were unsure or uncomfortable about.” That much was true. It was one of those things she loved of Rendal. He never forced her or did anything she had no say over or she did not wish to do, especially given that she was his Lady of House Stark. One time he wished to share her furs for more than warmth and the Stark girl had resolutely said no, wishing to remain virtuous for when she would be married off. Rendal left the matter to rest and for that much Sansa was grateful.

“Will you?” He pressed again. Her mind was a blur with warmth and drink. She had denied him a progression in their trysts before and time again, wishing to keep it strictly that, trysts. He wished to simply end it properly and then put their relationship where it belonged, in the past. What harm would one simple kiss do?  
“Alright.” Sansa finally said after licking her lips and jittering nervously. Rendal smiled warmly and it always soothed her to see such a smile on him, it gave her happiness.

After a moment of awkward silence staring, Rendal moved moved towards her. When he finally stood in her intimate space, Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. Their eyes met and her heart rate sped up. The servant boy asked Jeyne to hold the platter and she took it slowly. Rendal then rested his hands on her upper arms and his lips hovered above the Stark girls. He exhaled and Sansa smelled Arbor gold. He’s at it again she thought. One thing Rendal always liked to do when a feast took place was sneak a few sips of whatever fine wine was to be served. On nights when he snuck into Sansa’s chamber he would bring a skin to share between themselves and Jeyne if she was there.

The Tyde boy then finally lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was soft but intense to Sansa, and the influence of wine was strong. She had no idea why she was doing this, but she sank into the heat of kiss like any other time. The Stark girl grabbed the servant boy’s shoulders and the Stewards daughter ogled.

“Sansa?” said a strangely unfamiliar voice. The pair immodestly pulled away and looked down the hall...

“Oh Gods.” She mumbled as Joffrey walked up the hall with disbelief on his face.

“What in the name of the Gods are you doing?” He spat, it made Sansa flinch, she never knew her Prince could spit such venom. She just stared in shellshock and panic. “What makes you think you can force yourself on my betrothed?” He asked but Rendal just looked back and forth between Sansa and Joffrey. “Look at me you filth!” Joffrey shouted as he grabbed Rendal by the shoulders to force the servant to look him in the eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sansa feared for the boys life and did not realize she was speaking until it was too late.

“Yo-your Grace, yo-you... you must understand. It’s... it is not what it looks like.” In her panic Sansa could not produce straight sentences. She attempted to reach out and touch the Prince only for her hand to be slapped away. Joffrey then turned to the Stark girl and his features melted when he pieced together the events of what happened prior to his intrusion.

“What do you mean; it is not what it looks like?” He asked her suspiciously, glaring at her. Realizing her mistake, Sansa went silent. “Do you mean that you let him?” The color of Sansa’s face drained and all she could do was look at the Prince in panic who was now quickly pieced together the truth. “How dare you.”

“Your Grace please. Y...you don’t... understand”---

“I understand everything. What I saw was my betrothed betraying me. And I think I saw quite enough!” Sansa stared deep into his eyes as Joffrey realized the servant boy... nothing but hatred.

“Your Grace,” Jeyne stepped in, “you must understand... she never meant”---

“Never meant to what, get caught. I don’t need to listen to you or either of you two!” he said pointing at Sansa and Rendal calmly yet no less menacing. Joffrey looked at the Stark girl. “What kind of Lady thinks she can use a servant boy behind her future husbands back?” He was sneering at her why is he acting like this? Sansa thought, where was the Prince that was promised? The Stark girl could feel what little restraint she had on her emotions waning.

“I am sorry your Grace. Truly. Please... please, do forgive me.” Sansa kept her head down but her eyes peaked up to her Prince, his features had went blank by now and he evaluated her intently and Sansa wondered what he could be thinking.

Joffrey then simply turned around and began to make his way down the corridor calmly and quietly. For Rendal this was bizarre. He had heard many stories of the Baratheon boy, an unpleasant one to say the least. And yet here he was all calm and composed. Part of him warned not to fall for such composure.  


“Your Grace.” Sansa called out timidly. Joffrey stopped and turned to look at the Stark girl. “I hope this doesn’t change anything.” She added almost cringing.

“What do you mean?”He asked in a dark yet monotone voice.

“The marriage... is still... OK. Yes?”

“Oh! The marriage is off.” Sansa looked at him wide eyed and thought she heard wrong. Joffrey then revealed a sadistic smirk as Sansa began to pant at the thought of what her Prince was suggesting.  
“What?” Was all the Stark girl could pronounce.

“You heard me. We are no longer to be married.” By now Sansa no longer had control; the tears were beginning to burn her cheeks.

“Your – G-Grace ... please!” She pleaded.

“What makes you think I would want to marry a Northern whore of a Lady who chases after servant boys and shows me no loyalty?” He sneered as he grimaced at his former betrothed.

“Your Grace please.” Spoke Rendal as Sansa cried. “It wasn’t her idea...it ... I...”

“I don’t care who’s it was,” the Lannister boy cut in, “She still agreed to it so enough. The wedding is no more.” Joffrey Baratheon concluded before swirling around and returning to the Great Hall, leaving a broken Sansa to cry into Rendal Tyde’s shoulder.


	2. Betrothal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey searches for a new betrothed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the length of time it took me to get this finished, I have no idea why I'm so lazy. Anyways its all water under the bridge now as the second chapter is finally here.

Joffrey Baratheon went about Winterfell in quest of somebody new. The previous night’s events were unexpected, yet as they had developed he had found them to be more satisfying and more of an entertainment than the feast for his Father could have ever hoped to be. A smirk widened on his features as he reminisced on the Stark girls wails as he declared their marriage no more. It was incredibly satisfying and a relief from a burden. Joffrey had never actually wanted to wed Sansa Stark anyway. He had never found her appealing; instead he had been pushed into the match by his Kingly Father, meaning yet another thorn in the side of their relationship.

Joffrey now overlooked the courtyard of the keep from the cross bridge between the Great Keep and the Armory searching for a new partner. Now that he had dismissed Sansa as his fiance, he had to find a new suitor and as soon as possible. As Prince he would be King, and he would need someone to sit alongside him as he rules, whether he liked it or not, now it could actually be someone he had somewhat of an interest in. He scoured the courtyard with his emerald green for the members of House Stark.

Not seeing anyone, Joffrey made his way back into the Great Keep to search hastily. It best he find a suitor now that will say yes before anyone delivers the scandal involving the Stark girl. Best it comes from his own lips.

He wandered about the inner halls of Winterfell, it definitely warmer near the center than the outer edges or walkways. Servants bowed or curtsied with respect as they passed the Prince. After failing to find anyone, Joffrey huffed before returning to the outside to the Bailey and the bite of Northern cold which hit him before he even passed under the door frame. Joffrey could not wait until he returned to the sun of the capital and got away from the hellish fucking winds of winter. When he passed by the archery he caught sight of one of the younger Stark’s, a girl with the features of a horse. _She’s definitely the more Stark looking of the group_ the Prince thought as he approached her. Her hair was shaggy and dirty from sprinting through the mud. She was nothing of the posture the other Stark girl was.

“You.” Joffrey called in a rather forceful and haughty tone before biting back his tongue. _If I’m to find a new betrothed I cannot allow myself to deter them_. _To win someone he thought I must be the Prince I am_. When she turned her eyes widened at the realization of who was before her however she did not look happy. What the girl attempted after addressing him was perhaps the worst curtsey he had ever seen. “What is your name?” Joffrey inquired not unkindly.

“Arya... Your Grace.” She replied with a lack of care to her tongue. Joffrey bit back the automatic rage and desire to correct her, instead glancing Arya up and down with a smirk, regarding her curiously.

“Is it not un-Lady like to be scouring about the archery?” He continued. At that Arya huffed and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t care that it’s not Lady-like!” She whined and Joffrey smirk at that. “And I’m not scouring about the archery I’m trying to get away from Septa Mordane.” Arya added.

“And how old are you?”

“Nine Namedays your Grace.” Joffrey forced his smirk to remain yet he could tell it did not appear genuine. The conversation had just become so much more uncomfortable that it already was. _Not this one_ Joffrey thought. He wanted a spouse that would remain loyal and ready to obey every command he gave. While Arya may not be as bad looking, when he discerned her up close he could already make the conclusion she would be a nightmare to control, and would not take whatever he dished out. She was nowhere near to the proper Lady Sansa Stark is. Distasteful was not the word for Joffrey staring at the Stark girl’s virtual role about in the mud despite her status; her shaggy locks and ruined gown, _I’m I sure it even is a gown?_ Aside from all of that, nine Namedays, nine years old. Almost five years younger than himself, too young for his taste.

Without another word Joffrey dropped his smirk and simply walked off without a statement. Arya watched him walk off with disgust. To her, just the sight of him spelled trouble.

 _Where to now_ the Prince pondered as he wandered across the Bailey. He stopped in his tracks when he remembered all of a sudden that Lord Stark only had two daughters. Joffrey had ended his engagement with one and could not stomach the other the other. “Fuck!” He muttered as he dropped his head forward, running his fingers harshly through his hair. To add to his frustration the noises surrounding Joffrey seemed to be building, the shouts of men and the ring of metal. It was the same reason he did not go on the hunt with his Father and the other Stark men and that arrogant prick of a ward they hold hostage from the Iron Islands. With the headache he had been enduring over his break-up with Sansa he could not have stood the whistles of horn and the shouts of men as they hunted for game. He was the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms; people should be hunting his bore for him. He needed somewhere quiet to focus on his affairs before his Mother did so for him, or his Father did like when he arranged the marriage between himself and the Stark girl. No, this will be on my own terms Joffrey assured himself.

After searching the grounds for not very long Joffrey came across the garden all the Northerners called the Godswood. When he entered his face was hit with a pleasant moist air that was different from the air outside the Godswood. Surprised to admit it, he thought it a rather pleasant place; thick trees, soft looking grass and a calm of nature that was unique to everywhere else. Not that he believed in the Gods of the tree worshiping peasants in their frozen wasteland, but there was just something about the actual forest that was somewhat calming to his senses in a way.

Near the center of the Godswood he heard what sounded like a dog with a strange bark. When he came across the source of the noise he found one of the Stark kin and his direwolf as it was known. He was the younger of the two male Stark’s. He slid his hand over his forehead and his hair chuckling to himself sarcastically. Had it really come to this? Was he supposed to seek a union with one of the Stark boys? Another boy? Were the Seven play tricks on him? After letting his mind wander for a minute, the Prince laughed. After what he had pulled with the Stark girl he had nothing really to lose with such a gesture he thought. “Whatever,” Joffrey said to himself as he decided to take a swing at the idea for the sole reason of his amusement and that he had neither anything better to do nor did he have a better option in terms of marriage.

He approached the Stark boy who did not seem to take notice of the Baratheon boy at first. The boy had long auburn locks. He was slightly shorter than the Prince but not by much and from what he could see he was full of energy from the way he was dancing around his pet of light grey fur. When he finally did realize who was before him he suddenly stopped what he was doing before bowing in a stran--- _was that a curtsy_? Joffrey thought it appeared to be curiously. “Yo---your Grace.” He said with a slight stutter. Joffrey smirked _the boy knows his courtesies_.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“Bran Stark, well Brandon but you may call me Bran if you wish your Grace.” The boy --- Bran replied causing Joffrey to smile at his apparent anxiety before a Prince. Said Prince then simply moved closer.

“Well the, do you mind if I join you, Bran?” He asked politely and straight to the point. Bran looked surprised that a Prince would want to join him.

“If it pleases you your Grace, by all means.” Bran invited with a warm half-smile that was indeed inviting.

“It does.” Joffrey answered. Joffrey again moved closer to where Bran and his wolf were. “And who is this?” He asked forcing a half-smile of his own.

“Uhh--- Apologies your Grace, I have yet to name him.” Bran said nervously. Most likely from being before royalty, or perhaps it could be from the rumors of the Prince that whispered their way to Winterfell, _best I keep up my kinder side_ Joffrey thought. Joffrey then moved towards the unnamed wolf.

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not your Grace.” He replied softly and happily. When Joffrey approached the beast with his hand held out however, it growled and snapped at him, sending Joffrey flinching back.

“Your Grace! --- Come here, bad boy!” Bran shouted at the animal. It quietened and then returned to Bran who pulled it closer. “My--- your Grace I’m so sorry, did he bite you?” Joffrey very nearly snapped back at that but composed himself. He was still looking into Bran as a suitor. _In the name of all the Gods what am I doing!_ he thought. Joffrey figured it still to be some kind of jape simply for lack of anything else to do.

“N---no, it is quite alright. No harm done.” Joffrey chocked out forcing a smile to ease Bran’s nerves while exhaling heavily through his nostrils to calm himself.

“Are you sure you are OK your Grace, did he bite you at all.”

“No, it’s fine. He did not bite me. Came close to it but I’m fine.” Joffrey replied, this time his smile seeming a bit more genuine even to himself due to Bran’s concern for his well-being. He seemed a sweet boy and Joffrey was already beginning to like him above all the others... _wait what_? Bran nodded meekly at the reassurance after tapping his pet on the nose in chastisement before ruffling the fur of its nape. Joffrey then subtly nudged towards the Stark boy to get a closer look at his features. His skin appeared soft with light freckles sprinkled on his nose. His eyes were a deep blue like his Mothers and his hair was a thick cascade of dark auburn to his nape. It really was beautiful he kept thinking, just as much as the Stark girl. _Fuck is it really coming to this, I’m attracted to boys now, I thought this was a jape_?

“Would you walk with me?” Joffrey inquired politely and motioning to the other end of the Godswood.

“Of course your Grace.” Said Bran who motioned his direwolf to follow. The Prince suppressed the grimace forming on his face. Bran followed Joffrey, both adolescents side by side in a comfortable silence with the soft pants of the direwolf tagging behind them. It was rather pleasant to Joffrey for a change. Bran’s politeness and enthusiasm, that and the calm of the Godswood helped to alleviate his earlier headache, thus making this whole thing of being polite to hunt for a suitor so much more easier.

“Will you be joining your Lord Father when we return to the capital?” Jofffrey inquired politely.

“Yes your Grace.” Bran replied with glee.

“You can tell just how excited you are to make the journey.” The Prince smiled genuinely at the Stark boy’s enthusiasm as he glanced from the corners of his eyes.

“Is it obvious your Grace?” Bran asked slightly embarrassed and Joffrey told him it was perfectly clear and both boys chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to journey to Kings Landing” Bran continued, “To see the knights of the capital, the Kingsguard in their painted armor.” Brandon’s features were lighting up at the thought of seeing it all. Joffrey found himself not wanting to ruin the image on him... not yet.

Bran could not help but like the Prince of House Baratheon. He was so charming. Yet he had heard so many stories of him and his cruelty, his arrogance and entitlement. Seeing this side, Bran did not know what to believe. He suddenly remembered couldn’t even remember the Princes name. “May I ask your name your Grace?”

“Of course Bran. Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“It is isn’t it.” Joffrey said and both boys shared a warm smile. “You may call me by my name or title I don’t mind.” He added “So, which name do you choose then?”

“I think I shall stick with courtesies your Grace.” The Stark boy selected. Joffrey wanted him to keep calling him by his royal title so he was satisfied. Bran then turned to look Joffrey in the eyes with a warm smile. The Prince was actually enjoying Brandon’s company and the Stark boy was growing on him more and more. If he were being truthful to himself, a marriage to the young wolf cub was becoming more and more enticing to him. Having Bran as his submissive little consort, obeying whatever he wished was actually something he was growing rather excited about, regardless of his gender. He cared nothing of other opinions.

“How old are you Bran?” Joffrey finally asked, now remembering his desire to know age.

“Eleven Namedays, your Grace.” He replied. _Yes_ Joffrey thought, round about the same age as Sansa. _Bran is definitely the one_ , Brandon Stark would be his betrothed.

The pair finally reached the opposite exit of the Godswood entering into a second courtyard. Near the epicenter of it with all the commotion going on around them. Joffrey turned to look at Bran who was radiant with a smile that would please even his dog. “Well Bran, it has been a pleasure talking to you but I must seek out my Mother, the Queen, I have yet to see her today.” He said glancing around the courtyard. It was true but he did not care as much as he made it out to be. But he had not seen his Mother all morning, or his uncle, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but then he remembered the hunt.

“Of course, and it has been an honor to be in your presence your Grace.” Joffrey smiled at that but it was undoubtedly anomalous for a boy of a Northern house to say such a sentence. After a minute of staring, Joffrey finished with,

“I shall see you again Brandon.” He turned and walking off to the keep. He had decided. Brandon Stark would be Sansa Stark’s replacement and no-one would tell him otherwise: neither his Mother nor his Father. He wished to make it official as soon as possible before anything could happen and so he prepared.

When Joffrey had readied, he had his Father decree that all were to gather in the Great Hall to bear witness, however he had neglected to tell his Father the nature of the congregation. It was late evening and dinner was to be served soon. The sun was setting beyond the walls of Winterfell, casting its long fingers of amber to grasp the Earth a little longer. The streaks of orange broke their way through the windows and pooled on the stone floor, giving an almost Holy appearance to the room and life to the otherwise dull hall.

Everyone was now gathered in the hall: Winterfell and the Court that had traveled with the King up North. The King himself sat upon a grand chair at the top of the hall, where the Queen stood aside him, adorned in her classic Lannister scarlet. His uncle Jaime as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stood on the opposing side, helmet between his arm and hip with his body clad in the white painted armor. The House Stark lined up in front of the King from Lord and Lady, eldest son and heir to the youngest child, with the bastard lurking in the corners at the other end of the hall. Joffrey laid eyes on Bran who gave him a warm half smile. If only he knew what the Prince had planned. Now that he realized that the time was almost upon him to actually act on his impulse, Joffrey’s nerves grew and his throat became parched at the thought of how people would react.

The crowd that encircled him finally let their whispers die out as their King called for silence and everyone looked towards the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms in the only vacant part of the Great Hall. “Well son. What is it you’ve summoned us all here for?” Robert queried in a dead tone of voice as here looked down at his eldest. Joffrey swallowed nervously as he glanced slowly over to Bran and motioned his hand to step forward.

“Brandon Stark will you step forward.” It was more of a statement than a request and Bran glanced about nervously before slowly stepping out of the line of his family to stand before Joffrey, joining his hands at the waist.

“Yes Your Grace?” He asked humble as ever which pleased Prince Joffrey. Joffrey glanced about once more to see all of the eyes upon the pair of them. He had long since passed the point of no return and decided he cared nil for the opinions of the surrounding others. Yet no matter how hard he tried to push nervousness aside his gut remained taught.

He unsheathed his Lannister steel and keeled before the Stark boy, placing the blade on the edge of his knee, “Brandon of the House Stark, will you do me the honor of becoming my betrothed?”

What amounted to uproar echoed throughout the Great Hall. Bran stood staring down and even retreated slightly from the Prince in utter shock. “What is the meaning of this!” Lord Stark hollered as his eldest daughter was on the verge on interrupting too with a protest on how her brother was taking her Prince away from her. Lord Eddard stood out from his family line with an expression of pure anger. “Why do you mean to degrade my son in such a manner?”

"I do not mean to degrade him, I mean to honor him," said Joffrey staring into Bran's Tully blue before glancing to Lord Stark with a smirk, "Isn't that what you Stark's hold above all else?" The Prince then stood and locked eyes with the Stark boy again. "Brandon will you marry me?" Joffrey repeated bluntly and in a voice like velvet to the ears. Bran simply stared in confusion. He hadn't clue what was going on or what to do. He did not know if he could refuse the King's own kin or if he even wanted to, given what he thought of their encounter in the Godswood, a thought which frightened him most of all.

"Do you not think it would be better to wed my sister? She is a more appropriate marriage arrangement being a girl, and quite beautiful at that." Bran finally replied, the words feeling heavy on his tongue, stubbornly refusing to leave his mouth as they did yet he couldn't figure out why. However he knew it would be the answer his Mother and Father would approve of, a halfway point of reason without outright rebuking the Prince. When he gave his reply Sansa composed herself as firmly as possible to appear as much of a grown woman as possible.

"Well yes it is true that the Lady Sansa is quite pretty, however I have discovered she is no longer pure, with love place for another, a servant boy at that." Said the Prince, his tone the more cutting as he spoke. Whispers echoed through the Great Hall as all eyes turned form the duo in the center to the Stark girl at her eldest brothers side, who now began to whimper with her head bowed deeply in shame, her long held secret laid bare for all to see. The Warden of the North glared her down.

"Is this true Sansa?" he asked, his glare unwavering yet his tone was one of growing disappointment for his daughter. Sansa simply stared at the floor sniffling before finally answering.

"It... it is." A faint gasp passed through the crowd at the scandal. Both the Lord and Lady of Winterfell exchanged a look knowing Lady Stark would be entrusted with Sansa's punishment. Joffrey returned his his attention to Bran.

"And I desire something more than beauty, I desire you. I desire to see you stand beside me as the High Septon binds us as one in the Sept of Baelor. I desire to see you stand beside me as my husband when I sit the Iron Throne." Joffrey spoke so softly, never looking away from the Stark boys soft features which were slowly changing from shock and scandal to something else. All Bran could do was watch the shameless act as it rang through the mass of men and women in the background, whispering degeneracy, sin and more. Sansa's whimpers piercing sharply through the muted comments every so often.

"Joffrey that's quite enough!" Cersei reprimanded forcefully as she began to make her way to stop her on, only to be pulled back by King Robert, causing nothing but shock. The King was shocked himself yet curious as to what his son was doing. Distant, yet curious.

"Bran, your Grace, this is most unnatural." Said Robb aside Arya who glanced back and forth with childlike innocence and curiosity.

"Agreed." Answered the Warden of the North, yet seeing his King's curiosity and possible acceptance of what was taking place, he stepped forward to make an attempt to speak sanity to the Royal kin and save his son from such degeneracy. "Prince Joffrey, this cannot truly be your intent?"

"It is. Why else would I trouble you with it?" Joffrey replied.

"A same gender marriage! Never before has there been such a thing." Lord Stark almost hollered yet with a sheen of respectability. However Lord Eddard made no attempt to hide his disgust for the Prince from his features.

"Are you saying we should abandon the idea simply because it's new?" He glanced around the hall as he spoke, "After all, everything old was once new." The Great Hall was silent. A deathly, haunting silence that reminisced the tourney at Harrenhall for all those old enough to remember it.

The Queen was the first to break the silence. "Joffrey, as Lord Stark's eldest has already made clear this," she said as she waved her right hand about, "This is most unnatural, an affront to all the God's. I cannot imagine that the High Septon could stomach such a marriage, and that any lesser Septon could fathom it."

"If the God's were offended Mother, why have they not struck me down by now? Why would they allow me to ask for such a repulsive act if it was such?"

"It's called sin, defying the laws of God's and men! You are given the choice between good and evil, and if you choose wrong, the God's will punish you." Spat Catelyn Stark, to Joffrey's knowledge a devout follower of the Seven, not one of the Northern tree-huggers and for that at least he could credit her. "This is a test and we must resist the temptation." She added. The King and Queen as well as the Prince gave Lady Catelyn long, overbearing stares. After nervously looking at the Royals for a moment, Catelyn Stark appeared to be on the verge of speaking once more, only to bite her tongue at the site of the Queen. Bran's Lady Mother sank back into her place knowing her spouse would keep up the fight.

"Even if such a marriage were to happen, there is still the matter of offspring. Brandon as a male cannot bear children, and as the future King of the Seven Kingdoms, you must have an heir to succeed you. Not only that but a King needs a Queen." Eddard Stark stated rather smugly and in a condescending manner, thinking he had won the argument. Joffrey grinned at the Lord of Winterfell when he replied.

"There are other ways of acquiring children, If a bastard can be legitimized, why not an heir adopted? Also there are others to inherit the Throne after the heir apparent are there not?" Joffrey said more as a statement rather than a genuine question. "And I don't seem to remember a rule written anywhere that a Queen is vital to the Kingdoms," Joffrey turned and locked eyes with Bran, "or perhaps Bran will be Queen himself." Refreshed uproar flooded the Great Hall with the _you cannot's_ , the _how dare you's_ and the _what do you think you are doing's_ knowing no end from the Stark's and his Mother. Joffrey glanced back to the Stark's once more, not really paying attention to their protests and returned his attention to Bran who was still drowning in bewilderment from it all. The Prince smiled warmly and keeled before the Stark boy again, placing his sword on his lap. "Brandon Stark will you marry me?"

"I am a boy of eleven."

"I am twelve, only one Nameday older."

Bran bit his lower lip in nerve as his eyes danced about the figures surrounding him and Joffrey, they all blurred into one homogenous mass. Arya almost seemed to be concealing her emotions to his current predicament with her features empty of expressing. Sansa shed an endless flow of whimpering tears. The crowd of Kingsmen awaited restlessly for his answer. He looked down to the emeralds staring up at him with a warm smile. He couldn't, he had not a notion in his head what he was doing.

He reached down and gently gripped the pommel of the sword ignoring the gasps around him and the protests of his Father, Mother, sister, brothers and the Queen. Joffrey's smile grew into a devious smirk. "I will accept your marriage."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please critique if you wish.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome.


End file.
